9
Shep
WhileCamsoakedinthe tub, I prepared dinner, a pasta sauce with beef, tomatoes, and mushrooms. I turned the heat down low, covered the pot, and ducked off for a quick shower.
When I returned to the kitchen, she still hadn’t emerged. Was she upset about her brother? She might resent me for my stance on him, but I wasn’t about to change my mind.
I knocked on the bathroom door. “Dinner will be ready in ten. You all right in there?”
“Yep. Be with you soon.”
She sounded upbeat, which was a relief.
Water sloshed from within, so I figured she was getting out. Before I thought too long about what that might look like, I busied myself with finding her some clean clothes.
The day had gone better than expected. Cam didn’t seem to hate me anymore, which was as much as I could ask for. Foolishly, I wanted more—a whole lot more.
My eyes were drawn to her far too often. The hint of toned thigh beneath the boxers, her slender neck as she sipped coffee, those feline eyes that somehow made me want to say yes to anything she asked. I needed to stop staring so much because I didn’t want to freak her out. Besides, my priority was her safety, and I had to stay focused to do my job. Why did I have to keep reminding myself of that?
I grabbed her clothes, which I’d washed first thing this morning, and placed them on the bed. I added a clean pair of boxers and another of my shirts. Until now, I’d never understood why guys liked women to wear their clothes. It must be some Neanderthal marking bullshit, and apparently I was right into it.
Back in the kitchen, I boiled the pasta, threw together a green salad, and dug out a dusty bottle of red wine from the pantry. I finished setting everything out on the dining table as Cam emerged from the hallway.
A smile tugged at my lips. She’d found a leather belt to cinch around her waist, so my shirt looked like a dress on her. With bare feet and wet hair hanging over her shoulders, she looked… beautiful.
Two weeks and she’ll be gone. Sort your goddamn head out, soldier.
She sniffed the air and followed her nose to the kitchen. “Mmm, smells delicious. What did you make?” At the stove, she peeked inside the bubbling saucepan.
I scratched the back of my head. “Nothing special. Just pasta and sauce.”
“Looks great. I’m starving.”
I served up two plates and took them to the table. Cam followed, her pace slowing as she approached her seat with a confused expression. And then I saw it. It looked like I’d set up a fucking romantic dinner.
What was I thinking? The only things missing were candles, low lighting, and shitty violin music.
“What’s all this?” she asked, her gaze shifting between me and the table.
A nervous laugh escaped me. “This isn’t what it looks like. It’s only dinner. No big deal.” Jesus, I couldn’t stop babbling like a goddamn teenager on a first date.
“Really? Because you’ve gone to some effort here.” Delicate fingers thrummed against the back of the pine chair as she stared at the table.
Fuck. What could I say? Part of me wanted to do something nice for Cam. Impress her, even. Only now did I realize how stupid that was.
Her eyes came to mine. “I thought… I thought maybe this was—”
“You can eat wherever you want.” I interrupted. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” The coward in me didn’t want to hear her say that I’d gone too far and was a fucking fool.
Her brow pinched. “Don’t be silly. I’d be happy to share a meal. I was going to say, I thought maybe this was a pity dinner.”
“A what?”
“You know, my life’s a disaster. You feel bad about dragging me here like a caveman, so you’ve made a nice meal to cheer me up. Is that what this is?” She pulled out the chair and sat down.
“I guess. Sort of.”
“Well, it’s working.” She smiled. “Hurry, sit. I want to eat.” She rubbed her hands together as she eyed the steaming plate in front of her.